Immaculate Conception
by emily.down
Summary: Mary Bennet is about to start over in the city of sin.
1. Chapter 1

It all started when I was left on my own, per se.

One night, a great fire burst in the larder that swallowed the entire house. By morning, both my mother and father were dead. My sister and I couldn't believe our eyes.

Only when we saw them buried did we acknowledge the fact.

The Darcys accommodated us at Pemberley for some time, but very soon my sister, Kitty married the honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam and I was left in that great, big house at the mercy of my sister and her husband's family. My pride was a very silly thing. I couldn't sleep at night thinking I was here on pity, because I had no home of my own, no prospects.

After a year, Elizabeth gave birth to a little girl. I was appointed as the new governess of the child, against my silent will. Only when they tried to marry me to the village's parson did I finally voice my refusal.

So, I took all my belongings and left the Darcys, beginning a new life, far away from what was left of my family. I took the train to London and after arriving in the busy town I started looking for an occupation. I had little to no money so there were many nights when I slept in parks or in train stations, like a common wreck. I did not feel ashamed. My parents' death made me feel I could do anything.

I walked around town looking left and right, somehow afraid someone would recognize me and shout at me, though I knew no one. I didn't have the heart to steal, else I would have quenched my hunger. All I could do was stare avidly at book shops.

I didn't fancy dresses and ribbons, I was indifferent to fans and perfumes, or parasols, or powders and paints, or even good, warm food.

All I wanted was books, loads and loads of books to make me feel complete. I walked through those stores, touching every volume, picturing it in my pocket, wondering when I'll have a good penny to buy one.

I didn't care much for what happened. I was free, truly free. No one told me what was right or wrong and I didn't know what was right and wrong. I lived as I wished. It was a stupendous comedy.

After two weeks though, I was ready to give up. Having found no job, though I had knocked at various schools and houses for a place as teacher or governess, I decided to try other kinds of jobs. I went to bakeries and inns, but I was a terrible cook and a worse server.

Then I tried hiring myself as a scullery maid, but it seemed every young girl was looking for such a position and others were better qualified. They didn't care if I knew Latin or Ancient Greek; they needed someone to sweep the silverware and wash the stairs.

I wasn't strong enough for manly work either.

At length, I got a small job selling newspapers. I took this chance to peruse them for better offers. At the bottom of a murky page I saw once a little announcement, hidden obscurely.

_We hire young girls. Lindon's street, number 4. _

That was all it said. I was tempted to try anything. I was a young girl.

I should have known what the ad was about. I know now, but then I had no experience. I didn't know the language.

I presented myself at Lindon, number 4 one sad, rainy morning. I discovered it was a sinister, yet interesting alley, full of squat houses and narrow pathways that led…nowhere.

Not many people were up and about that time of the day.

I reached a paved court surrounded by thick walls full of plants and vines. I climbed some stairs and rung the bell.

A tiny young girl, wearing a very vaporous blue dress welcomed me in and made me sit in a very cosy little drawing room.

'Are you alone, Miss?' she asked me.

'Yes.'

'Are you married or engaged?'

'Not that I know of.'

'Very well, I shall call Madam Morceau.'

I was tempted to ask what it was all about, but I stayed quiet and looked at the roaring fire in the fireplace. After waiting what seemed like ages, a kind-looking elderly woman, smudged with the most shining red over her big lips and dressed in a black and yellow piece with frilly hems entered the room, squeezing herself in a petite sofa.

She peered at me under her spectacles and gave a considering "hm!"

'Good evening, madam,' I started.

'You look bedraggled. On the streets, I suppose? You know the hard life?'

'I…think so, madam. But I lived in the country most of my life with my family.'

'Why aren't you with them now?'

'They…passed away. My sisters are all married.'

'How picturesque. And you came to London and starved and now you need a roof over your head.'

'To be honest, yes,' I said getting red.

'Well, you don't really have the looks dear, but we shall see what we do about it. I think you have something, a twinkle in your eye, a certain attraction that could promote you. But the clothes are a nuisance. Now, tell me more about you.'

I enumerated my feeble abilities which related more to academics.

'That's very nice, dear very nice. Intellectuals say a lot to me. Are you a maiden? Were you spoilt?'

'Pardon?'

'Did you ever lie with a man?' she asked me bluntly.

'Of course not! I don't understand. Madam Morceau, can you please tell me what I am to do?'

She started laughing copiously, holding her chest with her palms.

'Oh, dear, you didn't even know what you were coming for?'

'I suppose, to be a kitchen help?'

'Kitchen help! Oh, you are hired dear, since I find you so amusing. Your innocence and vanity are charming.'

'Oh, but I don't even know…'

'Here you are a courtesan. My house is a brothel.'

That is how I became a call girl and…that is how my life changed entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

They put me in a room with another girl, three years older or so. She was a redhead and had very pale lips. She wore a green stuff dress with dirty yellow clogs.

The room was very small; had room only for two beds. The girl put her things under the bed, like clothes and other articles. I sat on the mattress and started crying.

'Hey, hey, don't cry, it will be ok. It's always hard at the beginning,' she said coming towards me on her knees. 'What's your name?'

'Mary.'

'Claudia,' she said grasping my hand. 'You're a beginner, but you get used to it, in time.'

'I haven't even started!' I sobbed. 'I never did anything.'

'That's not a taboo subject here. You'll get to work. Men are gentlemen with us. They don't treat their wives so kindly, but with us…'

'I am terrified.'

'Then why did you come here?'

'I had nowhere else to go. I tried everything but I am no good.'

'We have many girls like that here that were _no good_ and now they're very content.'

'Content?'

'Well, you get my meaning. Oh, come, stop crying. You wrinkle your face for nothing. You'll need it.'

'I am not very pretty,' I mumbled embarrassed.

'Oh, that can be solved! Madam Zoe does wonders.'

'Madam Zoe? Who is she?'

'It's madam Morceau's sister. They both ran away from France where they practiced the same trade. Madam Zoe deals with the preparation of the girls while madam Morceau deals with discipline and money. They make quite a team.'

The room seemed less dark and squat as I looked into Claudia's warm eyes.

'She'll turn you into a fairy. I was a bit bruised myself. You see, I ran away from my husband who used to thrash me.'

'How horrible!'

'Can't be helped. I recovered. And now I earn money on my own.'

'Don't you miss him?' I asked.

'What? Miss the pooch? I didn't love him anyway. Speaking of love, you'll fall in love with your first customer. We all do.'

'No, I won't. It shall be very sad.'

Claudia sighed. 'I know nothing about you.'

'I am alone. That's about it,' I clarified.

* * *

The following days, I walked around the entire house. There were many rooms, some empty, some crammed, all with beds, some with mirrors, others with lavatories, or wardrobes full of sheets and petticoats…

Only two rooms were locked and I supposed that's where the two sisters lived. I didn't see them too often though I was acquainted with madam Zoe. She was much colder than madam Morceau, but I felt more at ease around her, because she didn't laugh or comment, she left you alone. She was, though, dressed as unusual as her sister.

I talked to Claudia only at night, when we went to bed, but beyond that I didn't really see her. I saw other girls here and there but none of them ever addressed me.

I noticed that this huge house was actually formed of two. One had been adjoined at one point.

Claudia told me how some girls became high-class courtesans and moved into their personal apartments where they received gentlemen. The commission was given to the sisters.

The first six days I spent in such a manner, walking up and down, talking to Claudia, helping at the kitchen…

I thought I was living in a dream, either too squalid, or too beautiful. At the laundry, I tried befriending the other girls but they all regarded me and my country maiden's clothes hostilely. I didn't say anything.

On the seventh day, someone knocked on the door of our room. It was madam Zoe.

'You must be the new one. Come with me,' she ordered promptly.

She was wearing an enormous white hat which made no sense since she was wearing an apron and clogs.

I followed her reluctantly, since I knew something painful was waiting for me. I mean, I couldn't avoid it forever, could I? I couldn't avoid the dejection.

As I was climbing the stairs I was smiling, thinking of what I was doing. I had become someone so different, or I was about to.

I could go back to Derbyshire anytime and forget all, marry the parson, have a dozen children and eat pudding after Sunday sermon. But I knew I wouldn't return for that. And I knew I had gone completely mad since I was still in this house.

I wondered amused what my sisters would say if they found out…I think they'd all faint, even Lizzy too!

I felt mature, master of my life and at the same time a silly tart.

The lady dragged me in a room with large windows and lavatories and put me on a stool.

'Let's see…hmmm, I'd dye you blonde if you promised me you'd look better. Very white complexion, that's a plus. You have clean teeth, let's see the ears. Nails? Alright. Your hair is too rough. Inexpressive eyes…and yet you have something in them, a sort of insolence. Another plus, let's say. Waist too thin. Good. You don't eat well? You'd better put something on you. Clients abhor skeletons. They want curvy women. You have a square face. Yes, well, let's try.'

She opened the door and yelled.

'Why don't you come here, Anabelle? I need help.'

A girl that looked five and wore a long, heavy dress popped at the corner of the door.

'You called me, captain?' she said making a face.

'Stop grimacing already. Bring the bag and some mugs and hot water.'

'Yes, Sir!' she yelled and ran down the stairs.

I started fidgeting with my fingers, nervous.

'Don't throw a fit. It's nothing painful. We'll just smudge you a bit. You didn't think this was a hotel did you? You have to do something once in a while. Otherwise we'd have all women in London upon us!'

'I assure you that…'

'Yes, many say that. And many walk away fast. How many they came and they left in packs! This is not a leisure work. Stays only who can.'

I swallowed the knot in my throat. I was going to be one of those girls that left the place in shambles. And then I would go back to the streets after a failed attempt at becoming a harlot. What a glorious future!

'You aren't very conscious of what you are doing, are you?'

I nodded pitifully.

'That's good.'

Anabelle came back, sprinting happily.

'Anabelle, undress her quickly,' was her first order.

* * *

I looked in the mirror with horror and nausea. I wanted to vomit all over the floor. I looked dreadful, but madam Zoe said I looked very _chic._

I was smudged with all kinds of paint, others darker, others brighter. Crimson lips, as if they were rung, black eyes lined by a greenish charcoal and a lot of sticky powder. My nose shone of sweat. My hair was wrapped in a complicated bun tied with many red ribbons.

They pierced my ears, now as red as fire and put in them heavy chains with fake rubies.

I was wearing a violet dress with black sleeves, a shameful cleavage and tight petticoats. My dress was far too short and my brown disgusting stockings were very visible.

I stared at the high-heeled boots at the foot of the bed and doubted my resilience.

Claudia wasn't impressed when she saw me.

'You look very nice. You see? I knew the lady would find something.'

'No, I look worse than before,' I complained. 'Before I looked human.'

'Now you look like a woman.'

'A pathetic woman, maybe.'

'Eh, that doesn't matter. You mustn't appear like the ladies on the street.'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, so that men can recognize the _ware_. If you dressed up like a lady how many clients do you think you'd have? And many like the cleavage,' she said laughing while she tied her sandals. 'The point is to look completely different from their wives or sisters.'

I sat in silence for a while, considering how many marriages failed because of…us.

'I have a lot of work tonight, you?'

'I don't know…maybe,' I mumbled.

'Well, she wouldn't have done you up for nothing! To be sure she's got some customers for you.'

'What? I'm not going on the streets with you?'

'Come again?' she started. 'You are a beginner, dear. You need at least a couple of months till you reach the streets. You need tact and valiance, a sort of boldness. Till then you stay here and men come to the house.'

'Then why did they dress me up?!'

'For clients of course! God, Mary, what is it with that naiveté? Doesn't matter where you are, you must look the part.'

'Well, I actually…'

'Anyway, you are in luck. Clients who come straight here aren't drunkards. A lot easier with them. And they respect you more.'

Her words did not encourage me at all.

'Claudia, I can't do it.'

'Do what?'

'Lie with a man.'

'What do you have to lose?'

'I'm far too young!'

'You're 19, you're far too old! Come, get up, your dress is creasing.'

'But you don't understand, I haven't even kissed someone.'

'Lots of girls here have never kissed. Very few clients actually kiss the girls. It's a sign of affection too big when they only want…well, some bachelors do that from time to time but never the married ones.'

'How sinister…'

'You're a romantic by nature, aren't you?

'Maybe, I mean yes. What's that got to do with it?'

'Don't be disappointed.'

'I already am…' I said gloomily. 'Whatever possessed me to think I could do this?'

'Hunger, most likely and hunger will get you through it. Look, don't think of it anymore. Or, better, imagine that you're going to lie with your husband on your first night.'

'I can't imagine something like that!'

'Then wait…did you ever fancy anyone? Yes? Well, imagine you're making love with that man.'

'Disgusting!'

'Why?'

'Well, he happens to be the husband of my sister, Kitty.'

'Oh, you already have a tart's mind!'

I threw a pillow at her but she ducked in time.

'Well, I have to go now. Lots of luck and take good care,' she said and hugged me very tight. 'Don't make me stay with Gabrielle in this room again.'

Gabrielle was one of the _oldest _girls there and was very proud of this position, which made her a tad stuck up.

'I'll try…' I whispered, though in my mind I had already established I would run.

* * *

When Claudia shut the door behind her I felt an icy draught in the room. She was at least a ray of hope, but now alone…I was forming wilder and sillier plans. I thought someone would burst in the room, a man with a black face. He would throw me on the bed and I wouldn't breathe anymore.

I thought of my sisters' weddings…how the groom and bride kissed, how they strolled to their night chamber. I was always disgusted by those scenes, but look what I was doing!

I was thinking of Lizzy and Darcy and how much they loved each other through looks. I was thinking of Jane and Bingley who adored each other holding hands all the time, I was thinking of Kitty and the Colonel, the man that I initially liked. But he never threw me one look. He preferred the pretty, shy sister, not the pale, faded one. I was even thinking of Lydia and her wretched husband, of her children whose mouths she wiped, of the northern steep lands. I was thinking what carnal love they had…

And I was thinking that in that moment I couldn't dream of any kind of love.

Just then Arabelle called me to come downstairs.

I was ashamed in front of my father. He was dead but from where he was he could see everything, I knew. And he probably suffered terribly and cursed me and wished he hadn't died only not to see this…

In the _waiting room_, like the girls called it, or the drawing room I sat in the first night, I saw many gentlemen who smoked. I froze. I hated posing myself in front of people at balls…especially now, in front of them, dressed like this!

I was walking very slowly, my heart wasn't beating anymore.

None of them looked at me. They were focused on their cigars and pocket watches.

Anabelle growled like a child and introduced me "ceremoniously".

'Tonight's girl is new. Mary.'

One by one, they appointed their looks at me. Some wrinkled their noses, some nodded smiling, some bit their fingers, others looked at my feet.

At length I whispered to Anabelle.

'Can I go back to my room.'

'Are you mad? I think you already got three.'

I felt appalled and I was soaking wet. Someone caught my hand.

I looked up and saw a gentleman dressed very sharp, with a thick black beard that gazed at me intensely. He had an ironed collar. He was married.

'Let's see,' he told me promptly and mechanically I started climbing the stairs.

I wanted to shout but knew not how.

'You're trembling,' he told me when we reached my room.

'Yes well, it's my first night, Sir.'

'I knew that. I like fresh girls,' he spoke, sounding like a connoisseur and entered first inside. 'I think I drank a little but I am just tipsy.'

'That's good,' I muttered.

'Well, come on. Dance.'

He sprawled on my bed and started smoking slowly as I stood in front of him like burnt. I had no idea what to do. Some minutes passed.

'Listen, I am not paying you if you don't start.'

Disconcerted, I went towards Claudia's bed then went back to him. I walked back and forth trying to take out my ribbons from my hair.

'I see this at home at my daughter, hurry up.'

How I wanted to smack him! And he smoked like a pig. I hated smoke.

And then I had an idea. I abandoned my ribbons and climbed slowly on the bed till I was next to him. I took his cigar and got up, crushing it under my heel.

'You don't like smoke?' he asked.

'Not at all.'

Annoyed that I couldn't undo my bun I started pulling at my sleeves angrily and then at my skirt, tearing my petticoat too. I was doing this more out of fear.

The gentleman was watching me intently.

After I finished there wasn't much left of the dress

'Yes…enough, you're bothersome. Come here.'

I went to him reluctantly and stopped in front of him.

'Sit next to me.'

I obeyed.

'What is your name?'

'Mary, Sir.'

'Mary…you are a pathetic whore,' he said and then wiped some saliva at the corner of my lip. 'Go on, undress me.'

I was shaking all over but I tried taking off his waistcoat. Afterwards, I got up and went to take off his shoes. I threw them in separate corners.

'Take off the shirt.'

I went back up and snatched his collar fervently, almost choking him in the process. I accidentally made a button pop. The gentleman got up abruptly.

'Look, you're wasting my time. This I can do on my own and I am better at it. I'll give you a penny, so you don't think I'm a pig.'

He threw me a coin and turned to the door.

'Wait! Wait!' I shouted desperately and jumped his neck.

'You are bedraggled and sweaty…leave me,' he said disgusted

I felt so dejected and then…I turned his head and crushed his lips with mine.

I know it was stupid. But it was the only stupid thing I could think about.

After that, all was in a blur. He led me to the bed and I felt a continuous ripping.

After some hours I was lying in the sheets, crushed by perfumes and paints.

He left fast and Anabelle announced the second man.

It's true what Claudia said. I had fallen in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Um, hi there, this is the new chapter. Thank you all for the reviews. I'd like to thank anonymous reviewers_: isabella, vayle, ixi-shaj _for their kindness and support, for the encouragement and for reading my little story.  
**

After two more clients I was nearing the end. I had not seen their faces, I could not gather their presence. I was a piece of wood.

I sobbed but I didn't cry because tears would clean my face. I fell to the floor and shamefully emptied what I had nibbled at dinner. I looked at the puddle at my feet and almost saw my reflection in it. I couldn't recognize myself.

Anabelle hurried inside.

'You have another one…Are you alright, Mary?'

'Yes, but I can't take anyone anymore,' I told her pointing at the puddle.

'I understand…'

Did she feel sorry for me or did she think they wouldn't like the smell? She was very young. I never asked myself whether she even knew what this was all about. I just assumed an 11 year old girl doesn't think about these things, even if she sees and hears them all around her.

I wanted to sleep and rest so I could wake up early and…take my leave.

After many hours I fell asleep but I only had nightmares about madam Zoë choking me with a corset while other men watched my humiliating nakedness.

I think I woke up around noon, hungry and thirsty. Claudia had brought in some tea in the morning that was quite cold now and two green apples. I swallowed it all in haste, coughing and holding my head between my hands in pain.

The tea had an acid taste to it. It reminded me of some medicine my mother would give me every time she thought I had hay fever.

An hour later Claudia came in with two packages, looking mildly happy.

'Sleeping Beauty has honoured us with her awakening. I have brought gifts for the princess.'

'Oh, stop…I shall go back to my eternal sleep,' I said sinking my head in my pillow.

'We shall have none of that,' she said sprinting to my bed. But when she saw my ghastly, pale face her smile vanished and she touched my forehead worried.

'Is everything alright?'

'No.'

'It couldn't have been that bad. At least you've passed the biggest hardship,' she reasoned.

'It was worse.'

'How many did you have?'

'Three.'

'Only three?! That's nothing!'

'Nothing?' I protested getting up in one elbow. 'It's a nightmare.'

'I know…but in time three will seem nothing,' she assured me. 'It is like drinking. At first you find it distasteful, but in time you get used to its taste.'

'_This _is not a vice,' I pointed out.

'No, but it is a habit.'

'I intend to leave,' I said, hiding my eyes from hers.

'You will come back.'

'What makes you think that?'

'You'd feel ashamed and stained, you'd return to the place where it all started. You couldn't live with yourself,' she confessed, probably speaking of her own experience as well.

I felt horrified at the approaching future.

'Maybe my purchases will cheer you up,' she said bringing a package and putting it in my lap.

'What is it?'

'It's a new dress, for you. I hope you do not mind, I bought it with your charge.'

'My charge?'

'The money you made last night. I wanted to wake you this morning, but you were sleeping so soundly…so I decided to go buy you a dress myself. I hope you like it.'

I peered at her confused. I felt slightly offended. This was the first money I made on my own and she took it without consideration and bought what she thought I wanted.

It's true I had little to no clothes but I probably would have bought something else. Still, I appreciated the gesture…

I opened the package and saw a slender, shabby, comfortable green dress inside.

'Thank you, Claudia…'

'It was the least I could do for my new friend,' she said beaming. No one had called me their friend before, but the circumstances were a tad…satirical.

'I would have bought you a fan as well, but I needed to give part of it to madam Zoë. You know, you tore up the dress she gave you last night. You're new here so she didn't take much but you should keep in mind she is not very forgiving. You should…not repeat it.'

'I won't, since I am to leave.'

'You're still convinced you shall?' she inquired getting up.

I did not answer. I liked the days there, not the nights. The days were pleasant and peaceful. The house was enveloped in silence and I spent many hours wondering around or talking to Claudia. I would have stayed for the days, but unfortunately every day had a night.

'I…don't know,' I confessed.

'Did you drink your medicine?' Claudia asked me inspecting the tray she had left.

'Medicine?' Did she then think I _did_ have hay fever?

'In your tea. You have to take it every morning.'

'Why?'

'Don't worry. Only for a month or two. Then you shan't need it anymore.'

'What does it do?' I asked.

'Well…we wouldn't want you with bearing, would we?' she said trying to laugh but failed miserably.

I looked at my stomach and curled up in sadness. 'Oh…how terrible…'

In a way, I suspected it, but I never thought I would be given such a thing. And then – maybe if I was with child, that man, whose name I did not even know, would marry me, feeling it like a duty. I wouldn't have minded if he had felt it like a duty. I wouldn't have minded if he hated the child. I would have married him anyway, just to stay close to him.

I wouldn't have cared at all.

But if he had come here he probably did not believe in duty, certainly not in duty towards me.

Then – I understood something.

'I need take it only for a month or two? Then, afterwards…I shan't be able to…'

'Have children? No,' Claudia said shortly making the bed.

I wanted to ask more, to protest and cry and complain and shout but I knew from her movements and her face she did not wish to discuss it and that _this_ would remain quiet between us, for as long as we were in that house. She was telling me, silently, that if I wanted to protest, she wasn't the person to listen.

And I complied.

* * *

All day long I thought about children. Whenever I saw Anabelle my heart churned. Her smile was poisonous.

I saw young boys carry punnets across the street. They were clad in mud and they were happy.

Of course in this house, in this position I wasn't allowed the comfort of a child, nor would it be advised or practical. I knew I couldn't maintain a child, I couldn't offer it a good home, even if I left the house.

I did not wish to be a mother, but I liked to think I could be one. I liked to think that, if I had no meaning in life, I could at least make life.

If I stayed here, I wouldn't be allowed that privilege.

Just like the night before, I asked myself where to go. I thought, amused, that I would always want to leave and I would never. I would decide every day to leave and never return but who knew if I could follow up that decision?

I was just beginning, I had barely dwelt a week there.

There was nothing perverse or grotesque in the act itself. The only perversity was performed by madam Zoë, when she dressed me and painted me.

And I continued the perversity.

* * *

I always kept him in my heart, the first man. I didn't see him again, not for many months.

I wondered if he would ever come back, but I didn't have time to wonder too much.

After the first month I was put to help at the laundry and so I filled the wonderful, peaceful days with hard work, instead of talking to Claudia, or idling about.

I had to boil the water in a large tub. Then with a wooden stick I would put the nightgowns, petticoats, frocks, sheets, dresses and all sorts of articles in it. Then I had to cut up the grease and scald it in with the clothes. Sometimes, we added certain essences in the washing so that the smell would cover any other blemishes the woman had.

When the water cooled off a bit I scrubbed each and every piece of cloth. My hands were always red and burning.

At night I continued to do what I was asked. I looked worse and worse in that terrible paint, but I did not complain.

When I managed to save some pennies I went out in the streets to find a book shop.

I only managed to walk some miles before running back ashamed. I couldn't show my face outside. I could only walk in the open court and watch the clothes dry.

I asked Claudia to buy things for me, but I never asked her to buy books. I saved that pleasure for myself. I wondered though, when I would have it.

Claudia promised me in time I would grow accustomed to some things, but I never did.

I never did accept the clothes and paint; I couldn't stand lying there with a man and not looking in his eyes, not kissing him. I never kissed another man there again.

And I couldn't stand the loneliness. I couldn't talk to the other girls at the laundry and I didn't have much time with Claudia.

I knew nothing of my sisters…what was left of my family. I wished they'd write me letters, but I knew that was next to impossible. They knew nothing of me, my whereabouts, my situation.

And I couldn't write to them. What could I tell them? They would probably deny my existence if they knew half of it. I wouldn't mind that, but I would have liked to know they were safe and sound.

When I woke up in the mornings, I never looked in the mirror, I only enjoyed looking at my legs. They had many bruises and cuts from where Anabelle had shaved me with a knife, clumsily. I felt a silly pride in seeing those wounds, as if I had been in a strange and heroic battle with France.

But sometimes there were other wounds.

In my third month, everything ran in a different course and I started receiving different sorts of men. Some were so very drunk that they couldn't stand up and I would just let them sleep next to me as I searched through their clothes curiously, hoping to find out who they were.

I never did, however.

Yet some were violent and brash from too much drinking and handled me carelessly, yanking and snatching, not minding their weight or their dirtiness and sometimes I was left with marks.

When I first complained of this to madam Zoë she laughed and told me it was my fault for not having enough will to impose myself as a woman.

Yet when I pushed and rejected the man, she scolded me for being uncouth and unreasonable, frigid, disobedient.

One night, I was sitting on the bed, watching one of the customers walking back and forth agitated, playing with his lapels. I saw he was worried and that nothing I said could alleviate him. But I did speak.

'Sir? Are you alright? Do you wish me to…'

He didn't say a word, but he sat down next to me and put his head in his hands.

'I'm sorry,' I mumbled, 'for your distress.'

He looked at me as if I was his mother, no one else. So, I opened up my arms and he laid his head on my shoulder and he wept for a very long time.

After a while he told me he was going to war and that I couldn't stop him, no matter what. I nodded silently and caressed his hair. I could feel his sorrow and I did feel like someone dear to him.

They were like abandoned toys. The way a little spoilt child leaves his toys in the middle of the room; that's how they were. They wanted someone to take them back up on the mantelpiece.

There were moments when I wanted to tell them my life story.

I wanted to tell them that I had no family and my sisters were far away and I had nothing anymore, because I had chosen so. But every time I felt like confessing I thought they would snigger and never believe me.

Some might have, but then nothing I said could have made their grief easier.

Once, a man told me as he was falling asleep next to me that he was looking for a wife. He said he had found a charming young lady but that she was herself engaged heart and soul to a young lieutenant. He was downcast from unrequited love. He said that one never achieves happiness in life and that all one can hope for is to at least see it from afar, if one never reaches it.

I told him the lady was lucky to be loved by him and he closed his eyes.

Another time, a young man told me he had fought with his father and would never return home, but they found each other on the corridor; his father had been in another room. They went home together, I suppose.

These people had intertwined lives. And I waited for my own life to be intertwined.

I changed the sheets every morning and they always smelt the same; as if someone had burnt hair on them.

I went to the laundry and looked at the tired physiognomies of other girls washing there, careless of the sun outside, the town, their lives and I wished I could shout at them and tell them they were young and pretty.

When Anabelle took me that night to be dressed I felt something terrible would happen. And indeed, as she applied the paint on my eyes I started sneezing and fell to my knees, but my eye lids would not open.

I could feel my face swelling and until Anabelle could shout for help, I fell into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, this is the new chapter. I hope you like it, I liked writing it. I hope it will make sense. Anyway, wanted to thank _isabella_ and_ kate cee_ for their considerate reviews**.** Oh and about the first man...well Mary supposed he was married and he was, but she did not try to be aware of it, she just really wanted him close. **

First, it was my hearing which came back to me. I heard women muttering over my head like sparrows. Then I began to see some shadows. I supposed it was the fire.

I saw a large painting on my right that portrayed a young gentleman, clad in armor. Under the painting there was a small table and on the table a bright, glowing candle and a cross.

I had never seen this room.

Madam Zoë placed a wet handkerchief on my cheeks.

'She's coming round,' she said to Anabelle who was sitting next to her, white as a ghost.

'Thank goodness,' Claudia said taking my hand.

'You may go now,' Madam Zoë ordered Claudia. 'Your presence is no longer needed.'

'But madam…'

'Anabelle, show her the way out. I want to speak to Miss Bennet alone.'

When they left she turned to me holding a mirror in her hand. I looked at a sallow girl. She was staring at me also – it was my likeness.

'The paint had terrible effect on your complexion. You had some sort of reaction, but the physician esteemed you would be fine come morning. However, we won't paint you anymore; it would be a nuisance and a risk, not to mention waste. Your medicine has already set me back a pretty penny,' she said disdainfully.

I felt only too relieved to hear this. It was the first good news I received ever since I came there. I suppose a shy smile appeared on my face because the madam frowned.

'Now listen well. We are not a hospital or an asylum. I do not care for feeble girls like you. Unless you bring money into the house, you shan't stay here. And if you do not have clients, then I shall throw you out.'

Madam Zoë did not know I was still happy. I understood that she would no longer try to render me "handsome" and she perceived the consequence to this to be that I would no longer be wanted as company.

I did not retort or oppose her insinuations. I was only glad to be exempted from the painful rituals.

Every child is the same; they would rather not feel pain than hunger, thirst or any other inconvenience. And I was most indisputably the youngest child.

When I was a little girl I did not want to know what sufferance was, so I did not join my sisters in their games and running outdoors. I walked alone thinking that this was the only way not to be harmed.

I once lay in the snow for hours thinking the snowflakes would make a fortress around me. After that, my constitution was always weak, but I never regretted lying in the snow.

There are moments in one's life when it does not matter anymore if pain and beauty are two different things.

* * *

I scalded myself with the hot water that afternoon, worse than ever before and the red marks drew a circle on my palm.

The following night I came to my room exhausted from the day's work and lack of nourishment and sat on the mattress waiting.

When an hour passed in this fashion I went downstairs, to see if the gentlemen had arrived. I put on the new dress Claudia had bought for me, though to be fair, it looked slightly shabby. I crept behind the banister and inspected the drawing room.

Anabelle was serving rum and cherry scones on large gilded trays and the men read their newspapers, as always.

The girls came out one by one and the gentlemen followed them like geese. No one picked me or singled me out. In fact most of them remarked how "I see this kind of face at home too!" or "she isn't very further from my wife". Therefore, I was left behind for one night, one night when I was being myself.

I didn't have any embellishment to promote me, so I suppose only I could love myself this way.

The second night the same occurrence took place and the night afterwards. I must say Madam Morceau had particular customers. The men were strict in their scruples and tastes and nothing short of an exotic, exuberant mistress would please them…or at least someone that did not bring their minds back to their wives, sisters, mothers.

Women are all the same to me; old or young, opulent or destitute, naïve or bold, insane or sensible. When it comes to the crucial moment of sacrifice every woman acts in the same manner: she opens her arms.

A young school boy, not older than sixteen, took me on the fourth day and I felt ashamed with my unexceptional blandness. We all crave to be different and when we discover that we are common, even after having thought of everything that should be thought, we decide that we have irrevocably failed and we wait for somebody else to make us different.

He was studying hard to become a lawyer, but his father was very cruel and undeterred in his plans to make him a cold-blooded being like him, carrying no remorse. He said he needed something to wipe away his father's harsh words, ergo, he did not buy books anymore; he set aside all his pocket-money for a future young girl who would be his loved one. He would take her everywhere and tell her everything.

'And you would give up the law for her?' I asked as he was falling asleep.

'Surely not... We would only have a month of solitary happiness, but then she would be mistress of our house and I would go to court every morning, wouldn't I?'

I did believe he would be a cold-blooded being, like his father, but I did not dare dislike him in my mind because he had accepted me for a while. When I loathed someone, the distaste was reflected in my face clearly.

* * *

But then – my little lie ended and no one wanted me anymore as the dark circles grew blacker, the cheeks greyer and the mouth more restless; the unveiled image of a nineteen year old girl who did not like herself very much.

Anabelle told me to pack my little belongings, if I had any and depart. I received the news in the afternoon as she came in with a bucket of cold water. I started walking about the room, thinking of a plausible solution.

If I returned on the streets all I could hope for was a job as a sweeper, but that was honourable for a creature like me. The only dilemma that swam in my mind was the following: I could never marry, or have children, or take to kinder conditions.

I couldn't return to Pemberley either.

'Anabelle, is it certain? Am I not given a second chance?'

'I'm afraid not, Miss Bennet. You're awfully shy and now that you don't even look animated anymore it can't be helped…'

'But there must be something I can do.'

'Well, you ought to make some money. We're keepin' you here for free. I think that this is uppermost.'

I nodded disappointed and put my hands over my head.

'Do not lose hope, Miss Mary,' the child said indifferently. 'Would you…like to come with me? I have some errands in town. I can tell you more on the way.'

I followed her obediently outside the house but she did not elaborate more on my departure, instead she started gossiping about Madam Zoë and called her some awful names. The passers-by did not notice us, but I paid attention to everyone.

When we turned a corner, however, I saw a figure of a man, lying on the cold pavement of the alley. I approached it curious.

'Miss Bennet, do not get too close, it might be some ill beggar,' Anabelle said pulling me away. Yet before I could turn my head I saw the man's face and recognized him.

It was my first customer.

And I believed… I believed he was not breathing as a small rivulet of blood was gliding down his chin.

* * *

I climbed the stairs to the lavatory. The door was surprisingly unlocked and as I stepped in, I was hit by a diffuse smell of sweat and anger.

I sat on a small stool and looked in the mirror.

Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, they were all men that I had met and passed by and I wished they had all proposed to me and confessed their undying love so I could have rejected them all, so I could have thwarted their feelings.

Men die every day but women live on in their minds and they play silly, unorthodox, shocking games in their scalps. I finally understood what it felt to have an arrow in a heart. I finally understood the necessity of powder.

I disentangled my hair from my bun and let it fall on my shoulders and then proceeded to wash my face. I took out the white powder and I held it between my fingers but I coughed several times. I dipped my fingertips in the small box and smeared it on my forehead and cheeks. I looked like a ghost and I laughed at myself and put more and more until I was whiter than snow. I blew some away and watched it fly in the air and stick to the glass.

My chin was in my palm and I yawned lazily, afraid of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Mary Bennet was the name of a very young child.

Something caught my eye. It was a small, black flask. I took it out and I saw a wiped-out label on it that I could not make out. In it there was water and coal, I guessed but I was not sure. I dipped my pinkie in and I looked at the black substance.

I had seen actresses wearing it in plays around their eyes, but it was only a small, delicate line that inspired poise and modesty. Madam Zoë made our eyelids green or red and it inspired vulgarity and love.

I tried my best to achieve something; I traced the line of my eye with the black finger.

I looked very strange, did I not? Perhaps I was very sinister or I had drawn a mask that was very sinister. Yet, I liked it better than any other mask I had drawn.

Upon another inspection, I noticed my clothes did not go well with my new apparel.

I opened the wardrobe and a swarm of moths flew out. I skimmed through all the garments, but in the end I put on a white, large petticoat.

I checked myself again and liked the general effect, so much so that I giggled. I promised myself I would walk out of the house clad and masked like this.

I felt content with the situation, because it was something of a novelty in it. My destitution, my being abandoned…well, it was mostly me and my obstinate character.

Perhaps the simple detail that I had brought on this fate made me more conceited than ever. I relished in the adventure of going away from a brothel and I wanted to prove to the commoners that I had stayed here.

When I returned in my room I realized there was nothing for me to take but some pennies and a brown coat. All my other clothes, but for two dresses, had been stolen by other girls and some had been burnt or used in different toils.

Without a look back I shut the door behind me and climbed down the stairs.

I would have wanted to say goodbye to Claudia but she was in town and I could not wait for her.

In the drawing room the men were gathered again, like every evening, sipping their port wine broodingly, frowning at some issue tormenting their otherwise simple thoughts, furrowing their brows simultaneously, cracking their knuckles at the fireside, breathing in impatiently and groaning from headaches.

Anabelle was trying to clean the table, as Sally, another girl was talking to a gentleman in a corner. Janet was leading a man upstairs. Isabel was crying on the landing because someone had slapped her hard over the face.

Janet stopped in front of me and bowed solemnly.

'I heard you are leaving,' she whispered.

I smiled cheerfully, since nothing could dampen my spirits.

'You look very odd,' she added.

But I felt someone grasping my arm roughly. It was Janet's gentleman. He was staring at my eyes, almost as if he had found a hole in them.

'You…' he muttered and pulled me towards him as he climbed the stairs.

Janet looked back baffled.

'Sir?'

'You are dismissed,' he said absently and grasped my fingers.

* * *

And when I stepped into the room again they swarmed to me like the moths had.

It was beyond the reason of a beautiful woman, for I was not one. And it was beyond the reason of a loving woman, for I was not one. Most of the reasons were not rational.

I said I was the youngest child, all dressed in white and they all wanted me because they wanted to be my father.

They came into my room and I did not wait, I kissed them all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello. I wrote a new chapter and I hope you will like it. Thank you all for the reviews. Um, wanted to reply to _isabella_: Yes, the gentleman really is dead. Well, Mary is kissing all of them now because she sees no point in keeping herself for her one true love anymore, if her first love died (and in her mind she thinks she has no chances of ever finding another love). By keeping herself I mean only kissing. She had only kissed him to being with and that act meant more to her than the sexual one. **

**Anyway, thank you for reading and please tell me what you think.  
**

The pleasures of the flesh are known to many. They usually disgrace rationality. But what do two people do in bed when they have nothing to say?

What do they do when they cannot look at each other?

They look at their nails and scratch their ears, then they look at the ceiling and try to fall asleep.

That is how I pictured my parents to be earnest.

I wondered what it was like to tuck a child into bed and watch him sleep.

Shamefully, I had relished in that stupor of the mind and twisting of the body.

Sometimes my name came to mind; it was supposed to mean virtue, chastity. All the goodness was prevailed on it. _She _was looking down at me and thinking I had done this to myself. I could have lived an uneventful, peaceful life, but running away, eloping with myself always seemed better.

I sat up and spat in a little bowl by my bed, then I took a large gulp of water.

'How old are you?'

The man was tying his shoelaces with a particular minuteness.

'Nineteen.'

'You look younger…Say, can you help me with these shoes?'

I bowed down and obliged.

'I'm a widower,' he explained. 'My wife died three years ago. I have one son, Henry. He's a rascal, but he's alright. I love him dearly. He doesn't take after me at all.'

'He should have a mother,' I answered smiling.

He slowly wiped his sweaty brows and sighed. 'He can't bear any other woman. I've tried to persuade him but he's hankering after his mama and there's nothin' I can do bout it.'

I nodded sympathetically.

'I'll bring a likeness of him tomorrow,' he said somewhat cheerful.

'Tomorrow?'

He had been coming regularly for the past five days.

'You won't be here?' he asked.

'No, no, I always am,' I said smiling. He took my hand and caressed it slightly.

* * *

'You aren't pretty,' he observed taking my chin with his cold fingers. He traced his fingers down to my collarbone. 'But you're a sweet girl.'

'You think so?' I asked playing with his cuff. His pulse was heavy.

'Your kind is becoming scarce,' he said rising in a sitting position. I put my arms round his back playfully and my head on his shoulder.

'You remind me of someone,' I whispered almost inaudibly. 'His name is Mr. Darcy.'

'I do not care,' he muttered massaging his temples.

'Precisely,' I said kissing the skin under his neck.

* * *

'Why are you different?'

'Pardon?' I asked surprised as I opened the window.

'Why do you insist on making conversation? You think it's polite?'

'I think it's pleasant.'

'Why do you try to be so affectionate?' he asked, running a hand through his hair.

'I _am_ affectionate. Shouldn't I be?'

'You hardly know me,' he replied setting his back against the pillow.

'I beg to differ. I might have been acquainted with you for years without coming to know you. I've come to know you best in this hour.'

'Oh, shut up, you don't know what I have to go through every day, from dawn till dusk.'

I sat on the bed next to him demurely.

'Is there nothing that shall cheer you up?'

'I doubt I could ever smile again,' he replied sourly.

'Well, that's a shame…'

Suddenly, I jumped on him and started tickling him as hard as I could. He laughed with tears in his eyes, begging me to stop. He almost rolled off the bed but I relented, eventually.

We looked at each other as he walked away from the bed. The silence was very bothersome.

Then – he started laughing again. I joined him.

* * *

The sheets were very soft tonight and my chin was in my hands. I was laid on my chest, staring at the wall as he wrote on my naked back. Quill in hand and paper rustling softly he was trying hard to compose a letter.

'Are you sure it sounds alright? Don't you think she'll mind if I use such daring suppositions?'

'If you do not tell her now, you may never get the chance to. That ship will not wait for her, it will take her away and then – what will you do?' I berated him smiling.

'I suppose I can't swim after her. I find it silly – how men are so intrigued by new lands. It's just the same, I say. You've seen one green forest, you've seen them all.'

'Is that the same for women then? You have seen one, you have seen them all?'

'Oh, n-no, no,' he quickly opposed. 'Women are different.'

'Be careful not to be disappointed when you find out they are the same.'

* * *

The old count had trouble sleeping. He had ruined his fortune and now he was next to nobody, but that was not the cause of his insomnia.

He came to sleep here and I sat next to him reading books to him. They were books on economy and history and while not always riveting, they offered a pleasant lecture.

He could only find his rest here. He said my voice had syrup in it, not a cough one, but syrup nonetheless.

'After I die, you can have these books if you like,' he told me once. 'You see, I like to show my gratitude, but I suppose you wouldn't take them.'

'Oh, but I would. I would take great care of them, Sir.'

'Good. When I die, which will be soon, no one will remember me or recall my name, my face or anything else. Lack of fortune and bad habits have rendered me like this. But I'd rather be remembered by someone like you.'

'And why is that?'

'Because you make poor old men sleep.'

'Will you put in a good word for me in Heaven, Sir?'

'I'll try, I'll try. But I can't promise anything since my own actions have not been the kindest and I fear the saints shan't be very fond of me. But you know, I am quite content.'

'How so?'

'I could never understand religion to my taste since my family professed Irish origins and therefore Catholic pretenses. The church was a cold, dismal place for my eyes and ears and I never prayed in despair or misery, never asked for help from God whether I needed it or not. Yet, it always warmed my heart to know someone loved me. It warmed my heart to know God loved me, unconditionally. And I was given this gift only because I lived.'

'Yes, we only need live,' I said lost in thought.

'I can't say I regret many things that I've accomplished. Perhaps I should have had a child. That would have brightened me up. I would have bought him many things and so my money would not have been spent on less than moral actions. I had a cousin, a young, beautiful lady who joined me once on a tour of Europe. She almost gave birth to a son for me, but she died and the child died and I was marginalized by my uncle to the point where I lost a considerable amount of fortune. It was amusing when you think that my uncle could barely bear my cousin. He had always wanted a boy. That is why he envied my father. In the end, I guess we can't know who will follow us to the end. Our own parents are biased. Bur it is rather nice to have you here.'

I kissed his hand softly.

* * *

There was a great racket on the corridors. Someone was screaming very loud, though the scream seemed helpless, as if the person knew they wouldn't be heard.

I walked out of the room and saw three girls rushing into another chamber. My curiosity made me follow them. I stopped on the threshold and saw a young woman beating the floor with her hands as the other three girls tried to stop her.

She wasn't crying. She was very angry. No matter what the girls did she had no intention of stopping.

Claudia told me later that afternoon the cause of the outburst.

'Madeline is sleeping now, but I daresay that she won't be better when she wakes up. You see, her sister used to work here with her. They were inseparable. They did everything together and aided each other like no other sisters. But Tina, her sister, was very unhappy here and always dreamt of going away and starting life again. Eventually, she did run away. She traveled to America and tried making a living there. She usually sent her sister some money but very little to be spoken of. This broke Madeline's heart. But there is more. Tina eventually managed to marry into a good family and became the wife of a small, but well-off farmer. When Madeline heard of this, she thought Tina would immediately send for her and they would live together on her husband's _ranch_. Yet when Madeline wrote to her sister, expressing this wish, she received no substantial answer, only a small epistle saying she could not stain her husband's home in such a manner. Madeline was livid, naturally. She was filled with rage. To know that you have taken care of your young sibling all your life and they desert you without a look back…'

I shuddered as I listened to this sad and cruel story about a wicked sister. I thought this was only a fairy-tale, nothing real or possible. Yet the reality was that Madeline would never see her sister again and Tina would live in this self-indulged world, where the past never existed.

But this sad affair rendered me almost miserable. I had not one sister, but four. Would all four of them reject me in this fashion? Would all four of them desert me?

No. Madeline had not chosen to be what she was. I had. I couldn't expect them to accept me. I could not accept myself either, if I were in their place.

That night I went to visit Madeline. We had never talked properly but I knew her by sight. She was a hardworking woman that had few friends but was respected by all. She was always very clean.

'Good evening,' I began as I sat beside her bed.

She inspected me from head to foot and coughed.

'Have I died? Are you an angel?'

'No.'

'But you are wearing white.'

'I cannot stay much, Madeline. I came to see you. Are you well?'

'I do not know you,' she said furrowing her brows. 'How do you know me?'

'I …heard your sad story and I must say I was very moved by it. You did not deserve such cruelty from someone you loved.'

'No…Now I know who you are! You are Frank's sister. Tina told me in one of her letters that her husband had a pretty, pale sister that always liked riding horses.'

'I'm afraid I don't enjoy riding horses.'

'Oh. Then Tina must have lied. Why would she though? I'd better write her a letter and ask her. She does not usually lie without a good reason.'

Madeline made to get up but she felt too weak and ill to do so. She asked me to fetch paper and ink for her and so I did.

She dipped her quill and began her letter. She read it aloud and asked my opinion.

_Dear, darling Tina, _

_Tonight of all nights, I was visited by your sister-in-law. She came to put me right on my supposition. Apparently, she does not enjoy riding horses. I thought you had told me she did, but she corrected me. Do you think she has changed her tastes? If not, please tell me what made you lie. Is it because you do not like horses yourself? _

_I miss you dear sister. I hope your sister-in-law sends you this letter._

_Kindest care,_

_M. _

'Please send her this letter,' she begged me, tears in her eyes. 'Please.'

'I will.'

'Promise, please.'

'I promise.'

I folded the letter in my hands and waited as she played with the quill.

'Is it painful to die?'

'Pardon?'

'Is it painful?'

'I can't say I know.'

'I hope there is nothing wrong with me, but you see, I have a very bad feeling about my state. I think…' she said stretching to grasp a handkerchief that was placed under an oil lamp, 'I think this can't be good.'

She opened the handkerchief and I saw a large blood stain on it.

'I coughed it an hour ago. Do you think it troublesome? This was my favourite handkerchief.'

I looked down at her white hands holding the red piece of cloth and I almost wanted to cry large, warm tears.

'N-no,' I lied. 'I don't think it should trouble you. You're just tired. You'd better rest for a while.'

'Wake me up when Tina's letter arrives though,' she said wistfully as she turned her back and went to sleep.

'I will,' I whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**And this is my new chapter which I hope will be a nice read. Thank you _isabella_ for the kind review . You'll see what Mary will do about Tina in this chapter. Thank you all for reading.  
**

Perhaps I ought to write a letter to Jane or Lizzie. They must be worried for my sake. The rain beats down my window and the yellow paper turns blue in the light. I already see my words, the letters round and small.

Madeline's letter saddened me. I kept it in my breast pocket. It reminded me of my duty as a sister.

_Dear Jane, _

_I am writing you to let you know I am alright. I pray that you, my sisters and your family are safe and sound. I have found employment and I am content. I hope I can see you soon. I would inquire after everyone and ask for details but I cannot give you my address. _

I looked over it and cried. What had I become? Between the sheets of water in front of me I could see the man I loved. He was probably sleeping under ground, if he had ever been buried. This made me fear – what if he had been thrown somewhere, forgotten, perished and unloved?

I lit a candle for him and prayed.

Did God still love me? I knew He loved us all, but did He really love _me _anymore?

That evening, as I was stitching my petticoat here and there Louise told me Madeline was not better. In fact, she was half-dying and would soon perish. Madam Morceau was very displeased with this turn of events, so much more now that the physician had recommended expensive medicine.

The only thing Madeline ever talked of was her little sister. She called and beckoned her all the time.

I looked at the letter in my breast pocket. I could perhaps come to her aid.

Near dawn, when the men had left, I sat at my desk, weary with sleep and wrote Tina's reply.

_Dear Madeline,_

_How kind of you to have written. I do miss you terribly. I wish you could be here with me, only Frank will not allow it. He has sent his sister, however, to make amends for him. I did not lie to you, for she does enjoy riding horses, but she is too much of a lady to admit it. How are you fairing my dear? How is everyone? I hope you are well. _

_All my love, _

_Tina_

In the afternoon I put on my best dress and went to visit poor Madeline, showing her the wonderful letter…from Tina.

'Here, Madeline,' I said stroking her sweaty forehead gently. 'This is from Tina. She has sent me an epistle for you.'

Madeline's eyes turned into two orbs of delight as she half-rose in her bed and grasped the letter between her thin fingers.

After having read the contents five times she finally looked up, in tears.

'Oh, Miss, oh what wonderful news! Oh, she misses me. Poor dear, if she finds out I am ill she shall be very upset,' she said pulling off the quilt.

'Do not make haste, Madeline. Your sister would not want you to distress yourself.'

'I do not feel well, I confess,' she said sourly, grasping the letter to her chest.

'You look very pale indeed. Perhaps a walk would come in handy. Your sister made me promise I would take you for a walk.'

'Oh, she's so caring, she never thinks of anyone else. Would you walk with me?' Madeline asked smiling.

We both crept out of the house and walked down the leaky streets, in a very grey light. My dress was already five inches deep in mud, but she seemed to be floating, as she clung to me, looking around wildly.

They were building a new house around the corner and the sound of hammers and wood seemed to fog her mind.

We walked for a long time; until we were close to the centre of town.

'Let us eat something. What would you like Madeline?'

She coughed in her handkerchief and smiled.

'Nothing Miss, I thank you but I have no money and it would not do to trespass on your kindness.'

'Oh but Madeline! You offend me if you do not let me offer my kindness as I choose. Let us eat some cake. Some fine rich cake.'

She laughed in her blood stained handkerchief.

'Oh, I haven't eaten such a thing in years…since I was a little girl.'

'Well then, we shall have just that,' I intoned as we directed our steps towards a bakery.

'Miss, how is my sister faring then? Will she come to see me soon?' she inquired.

'Well Madeline, she is up to her eyes in work at home for er…my brother, Frank, is lost without her but as soon as she can tear herself away…' I mumbled.

'There's no rush, after all, I'd like her to see me all well and right, not like this in any case.'

I smiled pitifully at the pale woman who was crumbling right before my eyes. And I loathed that Tina girl with a passion, because it was all her fault. She had escaped from this world, but had not taken anyone else with her; she had been selfish and horrid.

But I wondered – If I were ever offered this chance, would I do the same? Not that it would happen to me. I knew better than to expect anything resembling marriage.

We ate cake and I purchased some new hats and shoes for her and even though I spent all my savings for two weeks I was glad to see a smile at the corner of her lips.

The afternoon passed like a breeze and sooner than not the wind started blowing and shadows were cast over the town. We ambled through the park for a while, until Madeline was too tired and we had to sit down on a bench for a while.

She leant against me for she was feeling faint and I told her quietly that we would return to her home soon.

'Bah…my home! That is no home. It is only a sad recluse for souls like mine. It surely did not suit Tina. She was a sweet angel. I'm glad she no longer dwells there,' she said coughing.

'Do not exert yourself too much. Madeline, you deserve just as much to be free from that abode as your sister was,' I answered pulling back some strands of her hair.

She smiled at me and took my hand.

'Oh, I know my place Miss…I know my place. I wouldn't dare…' she said but paused and looked up at the sky. 'It is getting darker.'

'Yes, we'll need to part.'

'Oh, I don't think I can get up anymore, my chest hurts terribly.'

'Yet we must, for you must take your medicine. I will tend to you when we get home,' I said, a worried expression crossing my face.

Madeline glanced at me and nodded, though I could see she had no intention of moving. She was serene, sitting there with me, enjoying the darkening scenery of the park. The soothing green did her well.

Madeline took my hand.

'Thank you for caring for a burden like me,' she whispered and I made to protest but she silenced me.

'I know who you really are,' she said chuckling. My face turned whiter than snow I believe.

'Tina is not coming back and I would not want her to. It is best if we rest here, Mary,' she added and put her head on my shoulder.

I stood still for several moments because I was too shocked to move. I had thought her irrational, but she knew it had been me!

After a quarter of an hour or so, I made to move and wake her, but she would not stir.

Her heart had stopped beating, but there was a small smile on her face.

Madeline was dead. And I started weeping silently, on the bench.

* * *

Yet again I had to delve into my earnings to bury her properly. I had a service done for her in a very small chapel and she was put in the ground in my presence and Claudia's only. I wrote to her insolent sister telling her of what had sadly transpired.

In four weeks or so, we received a parcel full of letters. They were all addressed to Madeline, from Tina. They had to be more than two hundred. Claudia and I read them all and we discovered that Tina had meant to write her sister all this time and come and see her, but her husband had not allowed her, saying it would have been disgraceful for their family. Frank had threatened to leave her if she made any attempts to rekindle her relations. Now that Madeline was dead, she had dared send all her letters. All the epistles she should have sent.

I felt desolate and repulsed by everyone around me. That a man could bend a woman like that, could make her part from her own sister, it was hateful!

Whoever this man was he was not worthy of his name.

I took all the letters with me and buried them in Madeline's grave, so she could find peace.

I wondered how Tina could be happy. It is true that she was away from here, leading a decent life, erasing her foul past…but she was made to deny who she was, made to deny who she loved and worst of all, denigrated simply because she had attempted to survive in a world where women in her circumstances had not much hope.

I noticed that after the poor woman's demise everyone in the house started paying me more respect. All the girls thought I had done something out of the ordinary. I wasn't a good Christian in their eyes, how could I be? But I was a "nice girl" as they put it. They had all pitied Madeline to some extent and now they felt my gesture was theirs as well.

Some even began talking to me, but only when no one was watching.

* * *

Claudia on the other hand pitied me for having spent all my money.

'It is hard enough to make do here, but your charity has left your barren.'

'I do not mind at all,' I proclaimed proudly, but in the next few days I felt my lack of money sorely as I could not pay the hot meals at lunch and Madam Morceau did not spare me one bit. I couldn't pay for the hot water either so I had to wash my clothes by myself in ice cold water and my hands turned to ash in just three days. I almost came down with a cold because of the frozen water. But I kept to my old ways and refused the face painting and the fancy dresses some of the girls lent me, for I would earn the money the way I wished it, not using any subterfuges. I promised myself I would be a maid in bed, even though we were all called harlots.

I had never enjoyed at least one night with any man, as married women do. I could never see what the pleasures of a conjugal life meant to some, I only say boredom and pain in it. Sharing a bed in this manner was a bother, most of the times.

I never liked the beginning, or the middle, but I liked the end, when we talked and comforted each other in some way or another. That was the happiest time for I could delve into people's thoughts and find out all new things about town, about politics and the war and France and new books I was just dying to read. I also heard many beautiful, tragic or unbelievable stories that men had lived to tell. And I felt honoured, because sometimes I imagined they did not even share these secrets with their friends or spouses. It was a perk of being so close yet so far from a soul.

Their lives followed me everywhere I turned and in my hour of need I remembered their stories and somehow it cheered me up.


End file.
